


I’m Not Going Anywhere

by LittleBugsie (orphan_account)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: #niceoldladiesdeservemorecredit, Adorable Connor, Connor Deserves Happiness, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Being Awesome, Hurt/Comfort, Oneshot, Other, Poor Connor, Swearing, Worried Hank Anderson, i mean come on it’s Hank, oh and there’s an old lady, who gives advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 17:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15102023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/LittleBugsie
Summary: Connor doesn’t want Hank to leave.And Hank doesn’t plan on leaving.(Post-peaceful ending)





	I’m Not Going Anywhere

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyyy. It’s my first Detroit fanfiction. It probably sucks, but I’m known to be a harsh judge when it comes to my own works, so I guess I’ll leave it to you to decide if it’s garbage or not lol.

Connor felt...anxious. Or so he thought was the best way to describe the weight on his chest. Just hours after Markus’s hope inspiring speech, minutes passing a handful of heavy conversations, and seconds ensuing a cheering farewell, he had gotten a message.

 

Of course, he opened it immediately. It seemed old habits really did die hard. Even as a deviant, he still felt the need to respond to everything in a matter of milliseconds. His LED blinked yellow as he scanned over the email (from the DPD?), steps halted in the middle of a cracking sidewalk.

 

Meet me at the Chicken Feed, 10:00 tonight.

 

-Hank.

 

Something akin to a relieved sigh escaped Connor’s lips, having finally heard from the detective after a long, eventful day. The last time the deviant saw the lieutenant, well, it was when he was at gun point, and by another RK800, no less.

 

Even though Hank had made it out of there unscathed, Connor couldn’t help but still worry for the man. All throughout Markus’s speech (though before and after almost shooting him) he had been thinking about Hank. Only, Hank. Where was he now? Was he alright? Did he get back home safe?

 

All very irrational thoughts. But that came with being a deviant, Connor supposed.

 

Still. It was good to hear from him. But what did he want? Almost a million possibilities flooded his system at once, a hodgepodge of scenarios and what if’s. And that’s when he felt anxious. One possible outcome that kept pulsing through his head, was what if this was going to be a goodbye?

 

Connor heard it on the news. All citizens were to evacuate Detroit immediately until further notice, said by the president herself. That included Hank, the drunken lieutenant, the cursing detective, the caring-in-his-own-way human.

 

And Connor, hell, he didn’t want to say goodbye. Not when he was just starting to feel he belonged somewhere, and had someone who truly cared about him. And if this was a goodbye, what would he do? Hank was the only human who was able to show Connor how to feel, how to act, no matter how frustrating he was to work with.

 

Sure, Markus had been the one to push him over the edge, to finally give in to what he was feeling, but Hank was the person who had paved the way to his deviancy. A hand he didn’t realize he was holding until the deviant leader showed him.

 

He was deviant. Not when Markus convinced him to lower that gun, not when he protected Markus and North from certain death, but when he made his first friend.

 

Hank Anderson.

 

And the thought of losing his one anchor, his one sail, his whole boat, well, it was torturous.

 

“Are you alright, young man?”

 

A calm voice startled the android out of his thoughts, forcing him to look down at the hand now rested assuringly on his shoulder. An old woman with a cane fixed him with an aged, but still comfortable smile. She patiently waited for his response, yet Connor was having a hard time putting together the right words. Another downfall to his recent deviancy.

 

“You look troubled...” she added.

 

Did he? For a moment he was too lost in thought to realize what he may look like to the general public. He ran a diagnostic.

 

STRESS LEVEL: 60%

 

ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL

 

“I don’t know a whole lot about androids, but usually when something blinks red it’s a bad sign.”

 

Oh. So that was the reason she sounded so concerned. His LED gradually turned to a more soothing yellow, stress levels slowly dying down, and Connor let a sigh out through his nose. He didn’t bother smiling at the kind citizen, because a fake smile was worse then a genuine frown, as Markus said right before his departure.

 

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ve just been thinking.”

 

The woman nodded understandingly. For a moment, the hand on his shoulder went slack, and she patted him on the back.

 

“Would you like to talk about it?” She asked plainly, like she was talking to an old friend. Connor stared at her, bewildered. Scanning her face, he had no memory of ever meeting her before, so why was she insisting on keeping this conversation going? He was just an android on the street, and she was just a person, probably on her way home.

 

He didn’t understand.

 

“I’m sorry,” he started, “but I don’t think I understand...why are you talking to me? Have we met?”

 

Even more confusing, the woman laughed. A breathy but guttural chuckle, deep with an emotion Connor could not place. He tilted his head while she leaned on her cane for support, perhaps because her body shook her off balance with each hearty guffaw.

 

“Oh, darling, I know I shouldn’t laugh...but I just can’t help it.” She smiled broadly, and it made her look years younger. “There is still so much for you to learn from the world. Sometimes, people like to lend a helping hand, no matter the situation. No, we haven’t met...”

 

“But when I see a lonely figure, deep in thought and who seems to be fighting with himself, I can’t just turn a blind eye, now can I?”

 

Connor lowered his head, almost if embarrassed. He fidgeted conspicuously with the quarter in his pocket as he responded.

 

“No, I suppose not...”

 

A surprisingly tough hand clapped him on the back, making him lurch forward with eyes wide. He coughed when he regained his composure, running a hand through his hair to distract from his earlier trip-up. He grinned sheepishly.

 

“That’s it, sonny!” Her eyes gleamed with happiness, “so, what’s on your mind?”

 

“Well...”

 

Well what? Where should he start? Connor furrowed his brow in thought.

 

Maybe he should just start talking and take it from there.

 

“It’s just...I’m having a hard time processing my newfound emotions. You see, a friend of mine, a human friend,” he clarified, “wants to meet up later, and you see...I’m...”

 

“Nervous?”

 

“Yes! Nervous. And maybe afraid? I’m sure you’ve heard the news. All humans are to evacuate Detroit in the next twenty-four hours, and I don’t know when, or even if, my friend and I will ever see each other again! And I-I can’t handle not knowing! And the lieutenant, I mean Hank, is-is the only one who can help me understand all these new feelings! I-I can’t do this without him, I wouldn’t know what to do without him, I couldn’t live without my-“

 

My. My what? Connor froze in place, not knowing how much his voice had raised during his rant. His thoughts, when said out loud, were translated into a mess of raw emotion; confusion, pain, anxiety, all mixed into a pot of jumbled sentences. And what then, was he about to refer to Hank as?

 

His friend? Yes, that must’ve been it. Nothing more.

 

“Oh, sweetie...”

 

Connor visibly jumped at the old woman’s voice, seemingly forgetting she was there at all, for a moment. He calmed down significantly when a gentle hand was placed on his arm.

 

“I know everything might seem overwhelming, right now, but I promise, it’s not as bad as you think.”

 

Not as bad as he thinks? How is it not as bad as he thinks?

 

“People tend to get caught up in the moment, you know,” she explained as calmly as she could, “and sometimes, the things they get caught up in aren’t as horrible as their minds make it out to be.”

 

“I-I don’t think I-“

 

“Shh, let me finish.” She raised a finger to the deviant’s lips, effectively silencing him.

 

“Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, when I was young, I met a beautiful woman. She far exceeded my looks, and I’ll admit, I was a bit jealous. So while we were having a conversation, I may have let something slip. Something horridly passive aggressive, and very uncalled for. It kept me up all night, I had regretted my words so much! And as the memory of my insult festered in my brain, my thoughts morphed into something ugly.”

 

“what if she didn’t want to be friends anymore? What if she hated my guts, and wouldn’t ever speak to me again? What if she told everyone how mean I was, and I would end up utterly alone with no friends at all?”

 

The woman paused. She looked distant, like she was trying hard to remember something important.

 

“Those were irrational fears, darling. So very irrational. But I scrambled out of bed and ran across the street, as fast as I could. And I knocked on that woman’s door. Now, mind you, I was covered in tears, never mind sweat, and when she opened that door, boy was she surprised.

I apologized immediately, sinking to my knees and begging for forgiveness. I didn’t want to lose a friend. And to my surprise, she lifted me back up by the arms, and forgave me with no hesitation. I was so dumbstruck, why I nearly fell backwards!”

 

At this point in the story, the two strangers slowly migrated to a nearby bench, settling down on its snow covered seat. Connor paid excellent attention, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes wide awake.

 

“You see, honey? In the end, those irrational fears were pointless. She didn’t cast me out, or shun me in disgust. She simply forgave, and that was something my brain didn’t account for. I expected a lot of things to happen. I was overthinking, as some peoplewould say.”

 

Connor nodded slowly. Maybe he was overthinking things. And no matter how many calculations and possibilities he went through, no one could be able to predict the future. Now that he thought about, the idea of never seeing Hank again seemed ridiculous. Even if he was going away, they would still keep in touch, no doubt about it.

 

He breathed deeply. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

 

His LED returned to a serene blue.

 

“There you go. Everything’ll be alright, you’ll see. When the time comes to meet up with that friend of yours, remember to keep things simple. It’s just a simple meet up, with a simple chat, on a simple day.”

 

Connor was tempted to snort at that last part. A simple day. As if you could call a huge android revolution “simple”.

 

“I really must thank you, miss...?”

 

“June. Call me June.”

 

“Right, June. I’m Connor. Just Connor.”

 

He gave a crooked smile, and couldn’t help but join in when June let out a burst of laughter.

 

Everything will be okay, he thought.

 

Everything will be okay.

 

 

 

 

 

——

 

 

 

It was cold. Colder now, thanks to the sun laying to rest on the horizon, leaving the landscape shrouded in darkness, the world slowly turning to peaceful sleep. A soft rain of snowflakes drifted from the sky like art in motion.

 

Connor had always liked the night. At least, he thought he did. It was hard to tell, when his data banks were a jumbled mess of both machine and deviant behavior. Looking back, he had shown deviant tendencies long before meeting Hank.

 

Like when he saved that fish. His system had flooded with warnings as he leaned down to examine the little creature, telling him to hurry on, to complete his mission as fast as possible, but he had ignored them all. He picked up that fish like it was a delicate flower, and gentle let it flop into the water with a satisfying splash.

 

He smiled slightly at the memory.

 

In the distance, the outline of the Chicken Feed made Connor quicken his pace, eager, almost like how a child would rush to a Christmas tree, tearing into gifts one by one and giggling madly.

 

Then, he came to a sudden halt, just now noticing the car parked on the side of the road. Hank’s car. His already wide smile stretched even farther, if that was even possible, eyes glistening in the dim light of a street light.

 

Hank was never on time, even less so early. So to see the vehicle’s old and worn finish in the white wonderland of Detroit, already gathering a thin layer of snow, well, it certainly made the deviant feel something. The emotion was hard to pinpoint, but it felt good, so Connor marked it as a positive.

 

And then, just up ahead, the android saw him. In all his grumpy glory, Connor thought to himself amusedly. He was clad in a thick winter coat and long baggy jeans, which were tucked neatly in his heavy duty boots. The man looked prepared to take on Antarctica.

 

Suddenly aware of his own attire, Connor looked himself over, feeling rather plain in his signature Cyberlife suit. The cold didn’t affect him, yet for some strange reason he felt embarrassed, having not brought even a scarf.

 

The crunch of feet on snow snapped the android out of his thoughts, and when he looked back up, Hank was smiling warmly at him. Something in him brightened, seeing him smiling so easily. Like it was the simplest thing in the world.

 

Connor recorded the moment, filing it off to his memory banks for safe keeping. He was definitely going to look back at the recording later.

 

He returned the smile, albeit a little more hesitant; and awkward. Needless to say, he wasn’t very experienced in the art of smiling quite yet. Hopefully that would change. Now with the lieutenant strolling up to him, he let the lopsided grin fall, something more somber replacing it.

 

But before he could speak; the detective’s hand went to pull his partner’s head against his shoulder, firm and grounding as his other hand went around his middle. His hold was tight, but not in the uncomfortable way. In fact, Connor practically melted into the hug.

 

It was his first. And he prayed to everything it wasn’t the last. A pleasant sensation started to bubble up in his system.

 

Comfort. Contentment.

 

...home.

 

And all too soon, it was gone. Hank pulled away, holding Connor out at arms length and looking him up and down. His gaze made the deviant feel like a deer caught in the headlights.

 

“Look at ya’...” he shook his head fondly, “after all this shit and you still look exactly the fucking same as the first time I met you.”

 

Connor looked down at his shoes, clenching his hands as he sighed shakily. The stuttering of his thirium pump only made his anxiety worse, pushing him to say something, anything, to relieve his aching heart. But he didn’t know what to say.

 

Goodbye?

 

I’ll miss you?

 

No. No, not either of those. The one thing he wanted to say was...

 

“Please don’t go.”

 

He knew it was a selfish thing to say. At the look of Hank’s furrowed brow and squinted eyes, the deviant had the sudden urge to hide in a corner and never leave. Something wet was dripping from his cheeks, making him look down, confused as the substance landed into the palms of his hands.

 

The feeling was foreign. The tightening in his chest, the pressure at the back of his head, the overwhelming stuttering of his breath. It felt like he was drowning. And he didn’t like it.

 

“Oh.” Hank said, realization hitting him. “Oh, Connor.”

 

He pulled him into another hug.

 

“It’s alright. I’m not going anywhere, son.”

 

Connor clutched desperately to the back of his coat, letting out a choked sob into his shoulder. Why couldn’t he breathe right?

 

“B-but, the military is insisting the evacuation of all h-human c-citizens-“

 

“Fuck that.”

 

Connor was silent.

 

“I’m not leaving. I could never leave you,” Hank chuckled softly, “even though you can be a little shit sometimes.”

 

“W-what’s happening to me?”

 

“You’re crying, Connor.”

 

“I-I can’t breathe right, a-and every time I t-talk m-m-my voice box stutters.”

 

“Yep, that’s basically what crying feels like. It’s okay kid, I’ve got you. Just let it all out.”

 

And Connor did. He sobbed as Hank rubbed comforting circles into his back, feeling individual flakes of snow drift to his hair, his vision blurred. The moon in the sky shined a sliver of light onto the pair, illuminating the scene like a spotlight in a play.

 

Hank wasn’t leaving. He was right here, holding the despairing android in his arms, whispering quiet reassurances into his hair as he shuddered. So why, then, did Connor feel like crying even harder? He contemplated the feeling in his head.

 

Yes, tears were still present, falling messily into the snow below, but the crushing on his heart seemed lifted. Instead, he felt relieved.

 

Happy.

 

Connor was aware of the concept of happy crying. He just wasn’t expecting it to happen to him, of all people.

 

“I l-love you, d-dad...” the words were out before he could do anything to prevent them. He expected Hank to stiffen. To pull away, to do anything, to show his discomfort. But he only hugged him tighter, a sure smile gracing his lips, and finality lacing his words.

 

“I love you too, son. I love you too.”

 

And everything was okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I need a nap. This took me forever lmao. Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated. Constructive criticism and grammar corrections are welcome as well! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. :P *flops onto bed and passes out*


End file.
